welshbastard
Really Experienced
- Joined
- Mar 18, 2005
- Posts
- 115
Name: Xavier Cross
Age: 31
Height: 6ft
Weight: 185lbs
Body type: Athletic, lean, and nicely tanned.
Hair: Black, straight and long, shoulder length.
I very much enjoy travelling the old fashion way by train; it has an appealing sense of class and nostalgia. Whenever I can, I travel via rail and luckily most countries still offer such services.
This time out was shaping up to be particularly special. My current local was Perth, Australia, and I was happily seated within my ‘Golden Kangaroo,’ class cabin. For three nights, covering over four thousand kilometres to Sydney, the compartment on board the Indian Pacific railroad would be my home.
I looked around my cabin; it had more than sufficient room inside, but I already knew this, having specifically requested the deluxe accommodation. This superior cabin I might add was the only exclusive suite of its kind on the entire train. I had a double sized bed, a lounge area and a bar of all things in here with me.
Slowly, steadily with various clangs and clacks the train moved out of the station. Still reeling from jetlag the gentle rocking soon put me sleep and I awoke three hours later feeling quite refreshed.
Unpacking my small and humble suitcase, I retrieved from it my favourite casual white dress shirt and slung it on along with my classic stonewashed 501’s.
Opening the door to the small private bathroom, I stood before the full-length mirror and glanced over my appearance. I was tanned enough from an earlier trip, so as not to be washed out by the purity of my shirt.
The only thing I wasn’t happy about was the five o’clock shadow framing my jaw line and mouth. Still I decided against shaving, as it was barely stubble and I was just not in the mood to do anything about it. With confidence that I had cleaned up well enough to be seen in public, I ventured out of my little palace and made my way through the centre hallway that snaked like the mighty Mississippi. In doing so I came across the personal attendant to my section, who greeted me politely and kindly stood aside to let me by. I nodded, smiled, bid him good evening and asked if I was heading the right way to the main lounge and bar-car, to which he replied, “Straight ahead sir.”
When I got to it I found the lounge was quite adequate for, well, a train. It had nice large club-like interior, with splendid viewing of the changing Australian landscape and more importantly (for those still inclined) a smoking area. Graciously accepting a Jack and water from the barman I found a seat and stared out onto the Australian planes. Strewn brush and vegetation met my gaze, along with a few sporadic herds of cattle. A large pipe ran parallel with the train track, no doubt bringing valuable water to the scattered farms in this area.
Apart from the barman, only two other people occupied the lounge, a man and a woman roughly in their mid-fifties. They seemed nice enough and we exchanged light-hearted pleasantries, but I knew that was about as deep as I was going to get with them.
They let me know that they were the only other people in the gold class and commented that there were about twenty passengers in economy class. Then joked that there were ten or so students in coach if I preferred younger company. I smiled. Inside though I was screaming, “Three days with these two…good God no!”
Then something quite interesting happened. A woman entered the lounge. She was no more than twenty-five, tall, reaching almost my height in flat sandals. Her hair was dark brown and highlighted with lighter shades of her natural colour. She wore an almost sheer camisole that showed her perfectly formed breasts and outlined her nipples.
Her flimsy dress hung low on her slim hips, traveling down to her ankles and was almost as see-through as the top. It clung to her long legs, accentuating them as she walked, pulling the flimsy material tight with each step.
As the girl got closer I was able to see her stunning features. She looked of Mediterranean decent. Her skin was that natural olive colour. Her face was attractively oval in shape, with large bright emerald green eyes that rested on top of defined cheekbones. What stood out the most though, among all that other beauty, were her full, luscious lips that put Angelina’s in the shade.
The mystery lady walked straight by me without a single glance in my direction; luckily my ego doesn’t bruise easily. The barman happily filled her order of a glass of white wine, which she graciously accepted, turned and headed straight towards my table.
Open to any Lit-Ladies who would like to continue.
Age: 31
Height: 6ft
Weight: 185lbs
Body type: Athletic, lean, and nicely tanned.
Hair: Black, straight and long, shoulder length.
I very much enjoy travelling the old fashion way by train; it has an appealing sense of class and nostalgia. Whenever I can, I travel via rail and luckily most countries still offer such services.
This time out was shaping up to be particularly special. My current local was Perth, Australia, and I was happily seated within my ‘Golden Kangaroo,’ class cabin. For three nights, covering over four thousand kilometres to Sydney, the compartment on board the Indian Pacific railroad would be my home.
I looked around my cabin; it had more than sufficient room inside, but I already knew this, having specifically requested the deluxe accommodation. This superior cabin I might add was the only exclusive suite of its kind on the entire train. I had a double sized bed, a lounge area and a bar of all things in here with me.
Slowly, steadily with various clangs and clacks the train moved out of the station. Still reeling from jetlag the gentle rocking soon put me sleep and I awoke three hours later feeling quite refreshed.
Unpacking my small and humble suitcase, I retrieved from it my favourite casual white dress shirt and slung it on along with my classic stonewashed 501’s.
Opening the door to the small private bathroom, I stood before the full-length mirror and glanced over my appearance. I was tanned enough from an earlier trip, so as not to be washed out by the purity of my shirt.
The only thing I wasn’t happy about was the five o’clock shadow framing my jaw line and mouth. Still I decided against shaving, as it was barely stubble and I was just not in the mood to do anything about it. With confidence that I had cleaned up well enough to be seen in public, I ventured out of my little palace and made my way through the centre hallway that snaked like the mighty Mississippi. In doing so I came across the personal attendant to my section, who greeted me politely and kindly stood aside to let me by. I nodded, smiled, bid him good evening and asked if I was heading the right way to the main lounge and bar-car, to which he replied, “Straight ahead sir.”
When I got to it I found the lounge was quite adequate for, well, a train. It had nice large club-like interior, with splendid viewing of the changing Australian landscape and more importantly (for those still inclined) a smoking area. Graciously accepting a Jack and water from the barman I found a seat and stared out onto the Australian planes. Strewn brush and vegetation met my gaze, along with a few sporadic herds of cattle. A large pipe ran parallel with the train track, no doubt bringing valuable water to the scattered farms in this area.
Apart from the barman, only two other people occupied the lounge, a man and a woman roughly in their mid-fifties. They seemed nice enough and we exchanged light-hearted pleasantries, but I knew that was about as deep as I was going to get with them.
They let me know that they were the only other people in the gold class and commented that there were about twenty passengers in economy class. Then joked that there were ten or so students in coach if I preferred younger company. I smiled. Inside though I was screaming, “Three days with these two…good God no!”
Then something quite interesting happened. A woman entered the lounge. She was no more than twenty-five, tall, reaching almost my height in flat sandals. Her hair was dark brown and highlighted with lighter shades of her natural colour. She wore an almost sheer camisole that showed her perfectly formed breasts and outlined her nipples.
Her flimsy dress hung low on her slim hips, traveling down to her ankles and was almost as see-through as the top. It clung to her long legs, accentuating them as she walked, pulling the flimsy material tight with each step.
As the girl got closer I was able to see her stunning features. She looked of Mediterranean decent. Her skin was that natural olive colour. Her face was attractively oval in shape, with large bright emerald green eyes that rested on top of defined cheekbones. What stood out the most though, among all that other beauty, were her full, luscious lips that put Angelina’s in the shade.
The mystery lady walked straight by me without a single glance in my direction; luckily my ego doesn’t bruise easily. The barman happily filled her order of a glass of white wine, which she graciously accepted, turned and headed straight towards my table.
Open to any Lit-Ladies who would like to continue.
